


New allies, old desires

by schreibzumlesen



Series: New muses, old pains [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hugs, M/M, Punishment, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schreibzumlesen/pseuds/schreibzumlesen
Summary: Kaer Morhen means safety, but not all of the Witchers view Jaskier immediately as family.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: New muses, old pains [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894315
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125





	New allies, old desires

Kaer Morhen makes everything more real, more sincere and _true_ , and when Geralt and Jaskier arrive and ride through the broken archways and over the battered pavement _together_ , Geralt is suddenly hit by a sensation of affection and fondness and overwhelming worry.

He isn’t sure where the last feeling comes from and why he’s so fucking nervous; Vesemir won’t make Jaskier leave, Eskel will be happy about a guest and Lambert… will eventually get used to the situation.

And even though Vesemir comes out to greet them and hugs Geralt, pats his back and then turns to Jaskier and rests a comforting hand on his neck to welcome him, even though Eskel asks Jaskier in a quiet and interested voice about his music during their first dinner together, and even though Lambert clearly holds back on swearing and his typical foul language, it takes a few weeks until Geralt’s concerns completely diminishes.

By then they have all settled into a comfortable routine: During the day Jaskier spends most of his time with Geralt and they look after Roach and Daisy and the other horses, or Geralt teaches him how to repair various things and tools, or how to fight properly. To his surprise Jaskier actually enjoys and is reasonably good at close combat – no match to a Witcher, of course, but he can hold his ground, and Geralt feels a strange amount of pride at overseeing his improvement.

Except for mealtimes they don’t see any of the other Witchers much, with Lambert and Eskel helping Vesemir out where they can and fixing things around the keep and Vesemir being busy with restocking their potions and general supplies.

Everything is going well, and at night Jaskier sleeps in Geralt’s bed, a warm comforting weight against his side, which is a pleasant addition, too…

“Your dear brother said I look like peacock in the clothes I wear,” Jaskier informs Geralt when he returns to the stable with water for the horses. “Well, no, actually he said – and I’m quoting him word for word here – that I look like if some dull bastard had tried to cross a peacock with a drowner and hadn’t even been successful. I’m uncertain whether that’s a compliment or not…” Jaskier tilts his head and gently pushes Daisy’s away when the gelding tries to munch at his chemise. “What is a drowner, Geralt?”

Geralt shakes his head. “You don’t need to know that. I’ll talk to Lambert.” To be fair, he’s almost impressed that the youngest Witcher has managed to control himself for that long, considering that he offends everyone and everything close to him on such a regular basis that Geralt almost doesn’t notice his insults anymore. But he also knows that Jaskier’s life has been very different to the one at Kaer Morhen up until recently, and it’s easy to mistake Lambert’s mocking for genuine cruelty. “He won’t say it again,” he promises.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Jaskier leans against the wall and watches the horses drink. “I want him to like me,” he says after a while, very softly, and Geralt is all too aware of this particular need and wish.

“He will. Don’t worry about that.”

Jaskier doesn’t reply, but by now Geralt can guess that his silence doesn’t mean anything good. He can only hope that everything will sort itself out because unless Vesemir, and in that context his belt, has a word with Lambert, the man most likely won’t change much.

Later on, his careful conversation with Lambert, however, isn’t exactly characterized by success.

“His own fault. If he wants to walk around like that he should expect someone, and yes, I mean myself here, to comment on it. It’s not like he will die from my thoughtful observations.”

Sometimes, being patient with Lambert can be helpful, and at other times it results in a complete disaster, but Geralt tries this approach nevertheless.

“I’m asking you as your brother to be gentle with him. It can’t be that hard, I’m sure.”

“Hm.” Lambert narrows his eyes. “Or maybe it can.”

Considering this less than ideal start, Geralt could have predicted Jaskier – or Lambert, for that matter – to get into trouble, he even somewhat expected that both would be involved in some kind of fight, verbal or physical. What he didn’t foresee was that Jaskier and Lambert would find themselves under Vesemir and his own stern gaze because they did some stupid and risky shit _together_.

“What were you thinking?” Vesemir wants to know, still sounding as strict and firm as he did when Geralt was a young pup, and Geralt intensely remembers the moments where he was on the receiving end of his unyielding voice with an internal shudder.

Lambert nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “It was supposed to be fun. Not like you’re that familiar with the term.”

Next to him, Jaskier looks a lot more worried at experiencing Vesemir’s way of raising stoic young Witchers for the first time. “It wasn’t my idea,” he hastily says and avoids Geralt’s eyes.

More annoyed than surprised, Lambert turns to him. “Thanks for your support, runt.”

“Lambert.” Vesemir doesn’t seem impressed.

“What?! Do you seriously think I forced him to do it? He practically begged me to be the first.”

“That’s not true and I won’t accept your blatant lies!”

“Oh, so I made you come with me then, with my incredible charm and good looks? Is that it?”

“You know it wasn’t!”

“I don’t care who convinced who to go sledding on the roof of the weaponry, both of you were involved so both of you will bear the consequences of your actions,” Vesemir interrupts Jaskier’s and Lambert’s heated debate.

“I’ll deal with Jaskier,” Geralt says, mainly because he can smell Jaskier’s fear at the older Witcher’s words, but also to prevent Lambert from further provoking him.

Vesemir nods. “He’s all yours, I have my own delinquent to take care of. Let’s go, pup. I want to get this over with.”

“Well, I fucking don’t!”

A sharp smack to Lambert’s thigh is enough for him to follow Vesemir from the yard inside, not very quietly, but at least in an obedient and relatively tame manner.

Jaskier, meanwhile, still doesn’t meet Geralt’s eyes, and fidgets with the sleeve of his doublet. “I’m honestly trying to come up with an excellent explanation for this whole situation but given the fact that Lambert already confessed to everything, any justification appears to be pointless, doesn’t it? You will punish me anyway.”

Geralt knows that he can’t let it slide, not when Jaskier endangered his life by wanting to please Lambert. “I will, but I also want to hear how it came to that. We can talk about it in your room, hm?”

“Yes.” Unlike Lambert, Jaskier meekly listens to Geralt and does what he is told, and Geralt’s hand on his back is purely for support, not guidance. “Will Vesemir lock him up in a dark cell now, with no water and food and only let him out to make him chop firewood?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear in his tone that it’s an attempt at not losing his nerves, and a genuine concern, too.

“We don’t really have cells at Kaer Morhen,” Geralt says. “Most likely Lambert will just be sore for a few days and that’s it.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s voice is harder to read at that.

“Do you think it’s too lenient?”

“No! No, I just… thought you handled things differently here.” Jaskier closes the door behind them and makes a vague gesture in the air.

“Differently how?”

His discomfort is unmistakable, especially when a faint blush can be seen on Jaskier’s cheeks, but Geralt wants to get this right and make him understand that Vesemir is never cruel.

“Forgive me my frank words, but it’s hard to imagine Lambert being over anyone’s knee. Vesemir is awfully serious indeed but the idea seems absurd.”

Ah, so that’s the problem. Geralt almost smiles.

“A bit of humiliation can work wonders for his attitude. Besides, bending over the bed for the strap is a lot worse, trust me.”

Jaskier’s blush deepens. “Did he-“

“Shh, let’s not talk about that. This is about you and your decision to take a sled to the roof of the weaponry.”

Jaskier sighs deeply. “Which was incredibly irresponsible. I regret it and I am very sorry and you’ll spank me and then we’ll forget about it?”

“Not how this works, puppy. Why did you do it?” Geralt sits down on the bed and gently pulls on Jaskier’s wrist until he stands before him, clearly nervous about the upcoming discipline, but not anxious enough to plead for mercy. Instead, in his hold, Jaskier’s hand is loose and calm.

“I thought it would be an interesting experience.”

“Did you?”

“Yes?”

“And was it?”

Jaskier laughs slightly, though not genuinely. “In a way. But Lambert’s clearly a maniac, and now we’re both in trouble so I think that overall it wasn’t worth it.”

“Hmm.” The answer pleases Geralt and serves as a perfect transition for the point he plans on making. “Do you think it would be wise not to always follow Lambert’s lead in the future?”

Obviously irritated, Jaskier rolls his eyes. “I am neither stupid, Geralt, nor do I want to get hurt. I assure you that I’m perfectly aware of the senselessness if not ridiculousness of most of Lambert’s suggestions and comments. It won’t happen again.”

“Then why did it happen today?”

“Because… I wanted to try something new, something that could possibly be enjoyable!”

But Geralt won’t let him off the hook with that simple answer; there’s more, and he needs Jaskier to admit it in order to get to the bottom of everything. “And?”

“And nothing!”

Geralt sharply swats him and Jaskier winces. “Don’t yell at me. What made you attempt something that foolish and reckless?”

“I already explained to you in detail that- fuck, ow! Shi- Geralt!” Jaskier actually stomps his foot at another few stinging smacks. His cries tug painfully at Geralt’s heart, but he stays firm.

“Don’t lie to me and don’t shout. We haven’t even started with your punishment yet.”

“I already told you though!” Geralt silently raises an eyebrow and Jaskier’s pales but shakes his head, nonetheless. “I did…”

“You didn’t tell me everything. And now you have one last chance to do so or you’ll spend some time in the corner before going over my knee. Your choice, pup.”

They stare at each other for a moment that feels entirely too long and too tense before Jaskier lowers his head and Geralt sees the tiny drop of his shoulders.

“I wanted to impress him,” Jaskier says, in a quiet and monotonous voice. “He doesn’t like me. You said they would.”

Geralt feels a flash of hot regret for not explaining his promise further. “Lambert is difficult but he’ll change his mind eventually. Right now he wants to see if you can keep up and that you don’t leave at the first hurdle, so that he can figure out if you’re trustworthy. It will get better.”

Jaskier doesn’t show any reaction. “It is my fault that he’s receiving punishment and that certainly won’t improve anything. As I told you, I’m not stupid.”

Ah. Fuck.

How does one even explain the bond they all have at Kaer Morhen, let alone Lambert’s personality, to an outsider who is not familiar with such a dynamic or even the term ‘family’, and all of the aspects it brings with it, good and bad?! Right now, Geralt thinks that Vesemir might have the easier task with disciplining Lambert - sure, he will have his hands full with him and Geralt can only imagine the extent of Lambert’s insults, but the youngest Witcher undoubtedly is a lot easier for himself to read.

“It’s safe to say that by now we’re all fairly used to Vesemir’s consequences, and Lambert had it coming for a while now. You don’t need to feel bad, it was only a matter of time until Vesemir would have a conversation with him.”

“But-“

“It’s not your fault. Not that he’s being punished, not that he made a questionable choice.” Geralt won’t begin with Jaskier’s own discipline until he understands that; living here shouldn’t feel like a burden.

Jaskier closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again he nods. “I believe you.”

“Good.”

The atmosphere in the room feels less heavy now, open and peaceful instead; but they both know what comes next and Jaskier shifts in uneasy anticipation. Geralt undoes his pants for him and takes them down, then guides him over his knee. Jaskier lets him, follows Geralt’s unspoken instructions.

“I’ve said this before, but I really do wish your hand and my bare arse would meet under different circumstances.”

Once again, Geralt ignores him, as he did when Jaskier mentioned it the first time, because what is that even supposed to mean?! Their relationship is already so damn complicated, Geralt cannot and doesn’t _want_ to figure out what Jaskier intends with all of his implications.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

“Very. Simply love being in this position. Can’t imagine anything better in the world.”

Geralt lets his hand fall and the strike seems to echo through the room. Jaskier groans and buries his face into the blanket, however, he’s still relaxed, still trusting and vulnerable. It does calm Geralt.

During the spanking though, Jaskier doesn’t hold back with his opinion, and yelps and complains his way through it, sometimes more and sometimes less coherent and articulate. “No- ah! No, not- Geralt! Not so hard… Oww! How can it be that your hand feels like a rock?!”

When Jaskier’s arse is a bright pink, Geralt allows some more strength into the swats and finds a steady rhythm. By now he can see vague red outlines of where his hand landed on Jaskier’s skin, and it doesn’t take long until Jaskier howls, after a few strikes to his thighs.

“ _Geralt_!”

“Stay still, pup, don’t kick.”

Struggling to obey, Jaskier forces his feet to come to lie on the bed but continues twisting his hips to escape the stinging swats that Geralt places with stern precision on his arse and thighs and the sensitive spot inbetween. “Awful… just fu- fucking awful,” he mumbles under his breath and lets out a pained groan again. “I’ll be better!”

“I know you will be. Don’t risk your life like that, you don’t need to impress any of us.”

“Yes!”

They both want to finish this, so Geralt ends with a few hard swats that leave Jaskier breathing hard and his hand sore.

“Oh, ow… Let me-“

“No rubbing. If you’re good I’ll give you a salve later on, but for now you accept the pain. Be glad that I didn’t use my belt.”

Geralt still doesn’t like the strict authority that he has to use during punishments, and he vividly remembers the last time Jaskier made a choice that could’ve hurt him, but for now he cannot bring himself to use an implement and chooses to rely on Jaskier’s promise to not blindly follow Lambert’s unsafe plans. For fuck’s sake, Jaskier is not the only one who enjoys the comforting part more than the discipline.

“It hurts,” Jaskier says softly.

He makes no attempt at standing up and leaving his position over Geralt’s knees.

“It’s supposed to,” Geralt replies, hoping his words don’t sound as harsh as they probably do. “Come here, we can cuddle for a while.” Gently, he helps Jaskier to his feet and out of his pants, which have found their way to Jaskier’s ankles, as well as his boots and doublet. Only dressed in his chemise, Jaskier looks much younger than he actually is and his teary eyes and dishevelled hair do nothing to oppose that impression.

Without needing an invitation he crawls onto the bed, curls up next to Geralt who sits against the headboard, and sighs after Geralt has wrapped him up in a blanket. Still a bit spoiled, Geralt thinks, and knows that that’s partly his fault, too.

“I have a bold suggestion to make,” Jaskier declares and turns his head to look at him with a lazy smile. “How about you also take your clothes off when I lose mine? Not that I wish to spank you, but… you know. I’m certain under all this leather there’s a lovely bottom and other body parts that I wouldn’t mind exploring. Yes?”

_What_? Under Jaskier’s questioning gaze Geralt feels hot and… itchy and not great, and he wants to leave and he wants to say _yes_ and his hand is still sore from just having spanked a former noble who now lives at Kaer Morhen, a former noble who smells faintly of arousal and affection and who is already in bed with him.

“I… No,” Geralt intelligently stumbles out of the conversation. “You… Don’t. Don’t say things like that.”

“But I want to,” Jaskier unashamedly replies. “I like you. In a lot of ways.”

His lips are warm and sweet against Geralt’s own and the kiss is too long and too short, something that could’ve been a dream were it not for Jaskier’s suggestive smile and his hand on Geralt’s cheek.

“I like you,” Jaskier repeats.

It’s clearly not how punishments usually go.


End file.
